Speaking of race and class, my most vivid memory of the Cambridge Police Dept took place within the angled walls of the Harvard Lampoon.

The Lampoon hosted the VIP party following the opening of the very first House of Blues, located in Cambridge.

As the VIPs drained, the Lampoon clique got drunker and drunker and wilder and wilder. The police were called on several noise complaints.

Around 4am, the police returned with an ultimatum delivered by a no-nonsense black senior patrol officer, accompanied by several baton carrying colleagues and a prisoner transport.

He led them up the stairs and entered the dining room, whereupon he saw most of the Lampoon staff dancing drunk on top of the dining table, screaming with loud music playing, the floor strewn with food and booze that had been thrown about earlier.

There I saw an imminent clash of race and class, between the steely-eyed black officer working the overnight shift, and the spoiled brat, all white members of the Lampoon House.

Fearlessly, I stepped into the breach. I asked the officer to give me two minutes to break up the party and, if unsuccessful, it would be his to break up.

Surprisingly, he agreed.

I shut off the music, grabbed who appeared to be the Lampoon top dog, and abruptly pulled him down off the table. I shook him, maybe even slapped him, and told him the party was over.

Groggily, he agreed and enlisted the cooperation of his fellow Lampoon housemates.

It was sufficient compliance for the Cambridge police, led by that black officer, to withdraw from the building.

Despite his initial demeanor, when shown compliance, that black officer displayed restraint and did not allow personal class issues to escalate the situation.

On a more basic level, I’ve always thought he was just glad someone else was there to step-in to deal with these crazy white boys.

Funny personal story about that, Lem. That was true for me too, UNTIL...

Until I read on the internet that you should NEVER admit guilt to a speeding offense. Take your chances in court, because the odds gods will be with you there.

I got stopped out of state. I purposely avoided acknowledging that I was speeding. The officer went to his car, came back and said, "If you sign here on the dotted line that you were speeding, I will not turn this report into your state.", where I would be penalized with points and higher insurance amounts.

That was a deal I couldn't refuse, so I signed. It was after that I told the officer that I had never had a speeding offense in my life. He could verify just how long that had been by just looking at me! lol He looked shocked, and we parted ways.

One month later, I was notified by my state that they had received notice of the violation.

I have an unpleasant memory of wanting my father to beat me further than the usual one time.

At the time I don’t think I connected the dots as clearly as I have begun to recently. But I think it was my way of getting back at him. I knew he felt bad about beating me. So my instinct was to try and make him feel an extra dose.

(1) Thanks, t-man. The problem was that there were little baby poison ivies hiding among desirable plants so I couldn’t spray. More of those evil bastards still remain. I’m going to try newspaper hoping it will soak up the oil. Wish me luck.

(2)(a) I’m from South Jersey, Lem. Still, it surprises me there’s still no self-serve gas. No, wait a minute. No it doesn’t, after all.

(2)(b) It is both heartening and disheartening to see in the news that the feds have opened up a can of woop-ass up north. Let’s hope they have the resources to work their way down to the 51st state.

(3) Hire someone? Whatever do you mean, MadisonMan? You mean deal with contractors? And spend my precious, precious money? And give up the golden opportunity for new comment material?

Back in my youth, I was involved in some "unapproved behavior" involving beautiful women and credit. I was in the office (a small empty house in Beverly Hills), when I heard the police announce themselves and begin busting down the door. Naturally, I decided it was a good time to use the bathroom and take some paperwork with me so as to not waste that time (I was a conscientious worker). Eventually, the Police broke down the bathroom door as well and dragged me out with my pants around my ankles. The cops were all wearing Burmuda shorts and loud Hawaiian shirts (like a team of Magnum PIs).

On the trip to the jail these cops were pretty funny as they made endless jokes at my expense. They were having fun and even making me laugh. It was like a roast of me. Proclaiming my innocence, I asked them what they were arresting me for. They said it was "illegal to shit evidence". I pleaded that at least I flushed. We all had a good cop/perp laugh and to jail I went.

The cops were cool. My fellow cell mates (about 50 in a downtown LA jail were quite humorless. That's why I knee-jerk usually support the cops over the the perps. Cops often have class, but criminals usually not, except in the movies.